Shedding Skin
by IWriteNaked
Summary: Living in a polyandrous society, Clary is tasked with choosing who she will spend the rest of her life with. Clace. Clordan. Clebastian. (Polyandry, and all...) Whatever else I want. Rated M for language and lemons/smut, because let's be serious. Polyandry calls for smut. I hate summarizing, so much...
1. Choosing

**For those who don't know, Polyandry is a marriage with one woman, and multiple men. Yes, Clary will be married to more than one guy. Sorry, Clace purists. This one will be smutty, there will be Clace, but there will be Clary with her other husbands as well. If you can't handle this, turn back now.**

**IMPORTANT: Keep an open mind, about this one. Polyandry is cultural, in some places. In Clary's "Nation" (the range she lives in) Polyandry is the culture. Before you tell me I'm sick, just remember that monogamy is a strange practice to some people, just like polygamy, polyandry and polyamory are strange for us.**

**Cultural Anthropology, motherfuckers. Yay for education!**

**WARNING: Smut, Polyandry, foul language, touchy subjects (for this Fandom, people have a fit if Clary's with anyone but Jace? Double standard, considering all the people Jace has been with, but I digress)**

**HUGE thank you to rippingbutterflywings and xXDustAngelXx for being amazing, and helping me out with this chapter. Plus, greygirl2358 and Katwood5 for being my pals, and listening to me rant all the time. You guys are so killer.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments, I just like anthropology, and science and sex.  
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><p>-Clary Fairchild-<p>

Today is the day.

Today, my entire life changes. Today, I'm shedding skin. Peeling back the layers of the child I used to be and becoming a woman. That's what my mother says, at least.

I'm choosing today. Traditionally, women in my Nation choose anywhere from two to five husbands. There are eight remaining Nations, and mine is called Domin. We are the Northern Nation. We're constantly at war with The Morbid in the South. They send people here annually, to try to persuade our people into their odd practices, like monogamy and contraceptives.

The Mals Nation in the East stays quiet, for the most part. Yendys in the West just really likes pudding. Iram is Southeast, and while I've never been there, I've seen the smoke rising. They are prone to arson before church each Sunday. Murder, repent, repeat. Ellimac is in the North West. They keep their focus on education, hatred of cookies and a love of sea turtles. I've rarely met anyone from the Southwest Nation of Eitak, but when they do come around, they walk with a sway to their step and a mischievous undertone in their eyes. Lastly, Nibor is to the Northeast. They… are the most sexually expressive people I have ever met. The Domin keep to themselves, and we don't talk about what happens behind closed doors, but the Nibor are not shy. Culturally, none of us are all that different. We just practice different types of marriages and religions. Some of us, the Domin included, don't practice religion at all.

In the house I'll be moving in to, my fathers tell me there is room for me to choose three husbands, just as my mother did when she was my age. She chose Valentine Morgenstern, Lucian Graymark, and another man she doesn't like to talk about. He died shortly after they got married, and no one has even told me his original name. They've all taken on the Fairchild name, just as my husbands will do.

The three of them have agreed that I should marry Sebastian Verlac, because he's strong and his family is respected by the Domin. His mother is the mayor, and she made the arrangements when we were just ten years old. What my parents have overlooked is the fact that I hate Sebastian. He's cocky and rude. I don't like the way he looks at me, or the tone of his voice. I don't like the way he mocks my brother, or the fact that he's hit him. If anyone is going to be punching my brother in the face, it's going to be me.

I've been told that the other two men will be my choice. The only other man I want to marry is Jordan Kyle. He's been my best friend since infancy, and I asked him to marry me when we were young. Five years later, and it's still the plan. My only concern is who the last man will be. There are many options, but none of them appeal to me in the slightest. I'm _expected _to choose a third, but there's no one I want. I've only ever had eyes for Jordan.

"Hey, Rissa." My brother bumps his shoulder into mine. He's the only person I allow to call me _Rissa. _To everyone else, my name is Clary Fairchild.

"Hi, Jonny," I say, just to annoy him.

"Jon," he corrects me. "Jon or Jonathan. You know I hate being called Jonny. It's not manly."

I shrug. "I like being called Clary, but that doesn't seem to faze you."

He rolls his eyes and smooths back his white hair. In our culture, we consider everyone married to our mother to be our fathers. Biologically, it's hard to tell who your father is. With Jonathan, it's obvious. He's Valentine's boy. The only difference in their features is his green eyes, which he and I both get from our mother.

When you look at me, it's hard to tell who my biological father is. I look like my mother, and no one else. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say Luke. Maybe that's just wishful thinking, though. Something about Valentine has always put me off. He's distant and cold, while Lucian is warm and friendly.

Jonathan throws a chunk of his toast at me after settling into the chair across the table. "I'll call you Clary when you start calling me Jon."

"Jon."

"Clary."

"Jon…"

"Clary…"

"Luke!" Luke interrupts, from across the breakfast table. He places his elbows casually on either side of his plate, wrinkling my mother's favorite beige table cloth.

My mother shakes her head. "Do you know who you're choosing today, Clarissa?"

As always, I internally cringe at her use of my full name. "Jordan," I answer immediately. I begin poking at my over-easy eggs with a fork. The yolk leaks out hurriedly when I stab it.

Valentine clears his throat. "And Sebastian."

I roll my eyes and dip my toast into the runny egg yolk. "I hate him."

"You've been promised to each other," my mother reminds me. _As if I care about that…_

"I know."

"So, you'll choose him today," Valentine demands.

I shrink away from the intensity of his gaze. "Yes, father." Luke gives me a sympathetic smile. He's the only one who's _okay _with me not marrying Sebastian. I wish that counted for something.

"You're choosing three, though," Luke points out. He's trying to keep the peace, so he quickly changes the subject away from Sebastian. He's our neutralizer.

"Yeah, who's your third choice?" Jonathan asks. He's not really interested, but he hates Sebastian just as much as I do.

I shrug my shoulders, and mother frowns. She hates it when I shrug. "I don't know anyone else."

"What about Simon? You know Alec and Magnus as well," Valentine offers.

"Isabelle wants to marry Simon, and he wants to marry her. Alec and Magnus are…" I glance at Jonathan, who wears a sly smirk. He knows the truth. "Not my type." The truth is that they're gay. The younger generation is more accepting of homosexuality, but the adults still don't approve. It makes me sad that Magnus and Alec can't be together. If I had space for four husbands, I would take them both. That way, they could be together.

"Just choose the hottest one." Jonathan's advice is prime.

"You could always choose your brother," my mom says sweetly. Jonathan and I share a look, noses crinkled, and shake our heads ferociously. It's not unheard of for girls to marry their brothers in the Domin Nation. Other Nations would tell you that it's wrong, but the older people of the Domin do not think so. I'm not interested in marrying Jonathan, though. In school, we've learned the truth about incestuous relationships; your children coming out with genetic mutations and mental retardation. I am not interested in having that. While our parents refuse to listen to the answers that science can give, we have opened ourselves to the truth.

"No thanks, Mom," I say, gritting my teeth against the annoyance I feel. "I'm way out of his league."

Jonathan foot rams into my shin under the table, and I jerk away while biting back a cry of pain. "You wouldn't be able to handle all of this." He gestures toward his chest, and I wrinkle my nose again. I don't want to hear about _all of that._

"That really hurt," I complain, bringing my foot up onto the chair and rubbing my shin.

"Sorry."

"You will be."

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><p>There are roughly 75 of them, in an unorganized group. I glance nervously back at my mother, and she stands directly behind me with her hands on each of my shoulders. "It's okay, Clarissa," she whispers into my ear. "All you have to do is kiss the three you like, and you're officially married."<p>

"I am aware," I tell her, and take a step forward. My eyes scan the crowd for Jordan. I pass over Sebastian, knowing I'll have to come back to him, but refusing to allow him to be first. Jordan is my priority.

I begin to panic after a moment of rolling my eyes over every face I see, because none of them are the one I'm looking for. I step into the crowd, pushing past the cluster of guys. I sigh in frustration. Is he even here? What if Jordan didn't show up?

I'm about to give up my search and go back to where I saw Sebastian when a low voice sounds in my ear. "Looking for me?"

I whirl around, my expression a mixture of relief and annoyance. "Jordan!"

"You're adorable when you're worried," he says, casually.

"Shut up." I growl. "I thought you didn't show up."

"Of course I showed up." Jordan steps closer to me. "I'm kind of hoping that you'll choose me."

I grin up at him. "Oh, you're kind of hoping that?"

Jordan nods enthusiastically. "A little bit." I reach up and grab him by the shoulder, the fabric of his t-shirt feeling like home against my palm. He leans forward, and for the first time in my life, I'm kissing a boy. I am kissing Jordan like I was made to do it. Our lips meshed together, as if they're meant to be connected.

Because they are.

We're more than best friends – more than husband and wife. We were made for this.

The second his hands press into my back, I am hooked. He holds me so tightly that distance no longer exists. I will never love anyone the way I love Jordan, and I wish we could be monogamist. I wish it was only going to be him.

His lip ring is cold against my lips in an inviting kind of way. I run my tongue across his lips, tasting the metallic flavor of the piercing. He is my first kiss – my first husband. He is my first kiss, and it is filled with worry and desperation to know what he tastes like. All I can think is the fact that there are very few layers of clothing between us.

"That's enough, kids." Valentine grabs my arm and yanks me roughly away from Jordan. "You still need to choose two more." He shoves me toward Sebastian, and I stumble before catching myself.

Sebastian smirks down at me. He's closer than I expected. You couldn't even imagine the sick twist of my stomach, before my heartbeat lodged itself in my throat. "Hello, Sebastian," I mutter through the thick layer of disgust in my throat.

"Clarissa." He tilts his chin inward, dark eyes gleaming with something that can only be described as hunger. I swallow back the correction that automatically follows his use of my full name and take a step toward him. He leans forward, and I try to kiss him quickly, but he thrusts his fingers into my hair, pulling my lips roughly against his. I gasp, and he doesn't waste any time shoving his tongue past my lips. I push against his chest, but he doesn't let me go.

He tastes citrusy, and I hate to admit that it isn't unpleasant at all. I still hate him, so I bite down on his tongue. Hard. However, this doesn't make him stop. If anything, it seems to encourage him, and he groans into my mouth.

Why is Valentine not stopping this? I'm not allowed to make out with Jordan, but this is just fine? What the fuck, Dad? I'm crossing him out…

By the time Sebastian finally steps away, I am out of breath. Not in a good way, either. In a way that says I've nearly been smothered to death. Not my favorite.

I shoot a glare at Valentine, but he's smiling in approval at Sebastian. He doesn't even see me. Motherfucker. Not cool, Valentine. Why is it okay for Sebastian to maul my face when I don't want him to, but I can't make out with Jordan? I'm mad.

"One more, Clarissa," he whispers. I nod, and scan the crowd.

I take a step closer to Jordan. There are too many people. "Jordan," I gasp. "I'm expected to choose three husbands, and I don't know any of these people. What do I do?"

Jordan chuckles and shifts his metal lip ring, using his tongue. _Fuck. The sexual frustration is real... _He points into the crowd. "He's a stud."

I spin on my heel to look at where he's pointing, and when I see him my heart leaps out of my body. My breath hitches, and Jordan chuckles again. There's a tall blonde with luminous golden eyes leaning against the stone wall. Jordan wasn't lying. Some beauty demands to be seen.

Hesitantly, I approach him. He doesn't move away from the wall when I stand in front of him, but he smiles at me. "What's your name?"

His eyes smolder into mine, and I shift my gaze before I allow myself to become intimidated by his stare. Guys that look like this aren't supposed to exist, but here he is, photoshopped and all. "Jace Herondale." I like his voice even more than his face, if that's possible.

I hold out my hand to him. "Clary Fairchild."

He lifts an eyebrow, hardly sparing a glance at my outstretched hand. "You want to shake my hand? Is that how this works?"

"Did you have something else in mind?"

"Well," he starts. "I had assumed you were talking to me because you're choosing today, and you need one more guy."

I step toward him. "You aren't wrong."

Jace pushes away from the wall and leans so his face is level with him. "Does this mean I can kiss you?"

I bite my lip, trying not to smile like a fucking idiot. Of course, I do. Every. Time. I slowly blink a few times as I process the situation. This really isn't the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me, but it's pretty close. I generally don't walk up to boys and marry them. "You'll be stuck with me if you do," I warn him.

He cocks his head to the side. "That's why we're both here, isn't it?"

I nod, and take one last step to close the distance. When our lips meet, I hear my mother sobbing from somewhere far away. My mother's cries fade, however. All I can do is taste and feel. My other senses have stopped working. All it took was one kiss, and I am lost to the world. Just like when I kissed Jordan, this feels right. It feels like I was made for this.

Silently, he asks for my lips, my arms, and my breath. Even the air in my lungs is his. His teeth tear galaxies into my quivering lips as my nails drag comet trails down the curvature of his spine.

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><p><strong>Alright… That's it… (So nervous about this story…)<strong>

**-IWriteNaked**


	2. Poison in a Pretty Bottle

**HOLY SHITATICUS. The number of reviews for just one chapter is outrageous. 107! On one chapter! I love you all. Thank you for existing.**

**Guest: "Kill Sebastian somehow PLZ! It just CANT happen."**

** It can and it will! (Maniacal laughter)**

**THANKS RIPPINGBUTTERFLYWINGS FOR BETA-READING FOR ME. YOUR FACE IS MY FAVORITE FACE OF ALL THE FACES.**

**WARNING: THIS IS THE ONLY TIME I WILL WARN YOU ABOUT SMUT. THIS STORY WILL EARN ITS M RATING. IF YOU'RE ALLERGIC TO CITRUS, STOP DRINKING MY LEMONADE.**

**Rate: Goddamn smut, what else? MATURE READERS ONLY.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments, but I once started a car on fire.**

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><p>-Sebastian Fairchild-<p>

Clarissa Fairchild is poison in a pretty bottle.

If Sebastian were being honest, he'd tell you that he doesn't even really like the girl. The only reason he followed through with their marriage is because he hates her marginally less than all of the other Domin girls.

And he really wants to fuck her. Not in a sweet, romantic kind of way - he wants to have rough, beastly sex that will leave her sore for days. He wants to watch her limp and know that it's because of all the things he did to her while she was powerless to stop him. He wants to watch her come undone, become a moaning mess who can't form words other than his name. He wants her to think about him when she's with the others.

He doesn't want anything else from Clary Fairchild. He is not interested in her love. Sebastian won't hurt her, and he'll do his best to get along, but he can't be bothered with showing her affection. It's clear that she doesn't want Sebastian's love either, so it all works out… assuming she'll share his bed. That might take some convincing, but Sebastian has got a way with words.

When Valentine pushed Clary toward him, angered flared up in her eyes, and he had to bite back a fit of laughter. He doesn't care that she hates him because the girl will give herself to him soon enough.

-Jordan Fairchild-

_My mouth still tastes like you, _Jordan thinks as he enters the bedroom Jocelyn painted for him. The room is done in every shade of grey, with a city painted onto the wall above his bed. Everything is already in its place. He and Sebastian started moving into the house last week, knowing that Clary would choose them.

Watching _his_ girl with Sebastian wasn't easy for Jordan. He always knew this was coming, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. He was fully aware of the fact that she didn't want Sebastian. Clary assured him that he was the only one she wanted, and even entertained the idea of monogamy. They'd never be allowed to practice monogamy, though.

When Jordan pointed out Jace, it somehow hurt less than watching her with Sebastian. Helping her choose left his heart feeling like someone had a tight fist wrapped around it, but that was nothing in comparison to what Sebastian made him feel. Jace was a stranger, and she'd chosen him based on his looks. Why does that bother him less than when she chose Sebastian because she was expected to? Jordan doesn't know.

"Hey," Clary says, entering his bedroom for the first time. "I like the wall." Jordan follows her gaze to the city. He's never seen a real city before, but Jocelyn painted the Mals Nation by his request. Something about the way lights illuminate the streets has always drawn him in. His eyes scan the buildings that stretch all the way up into the sky, and he wishes that he could see it in person. Leaving the Domin Nation is more trouble than it should be.

"Your mother did it," Jordan tells her.

She smiles affectionately at him. "I can tell. No one else can paint quite like her."

Jordan shakes his head in disagreement. "You can."

"But I know that I didn't paint it."

"I love you anyways."

"I love you, too, Jordan."

-Jace Fairchild-

Jace always had a thing for redheads, and something about Clary drove him absolutely wild. The moment he kissed her, he was hooked. He wanted more, but she didn't seem like the kind of girl to get all steamy in front of a crowd. He'd watched her with Jordan beforehand, and wonders now if that is true. They were pretty steamy.

He steps into a plain white bedroom, with his duffel bag in one hand and his jacket hanging loosely from the other. "Sorry it's so basic. We weren't sure who she'd choose," Luke says as he drops Jace's other bag on the floor by the door.

"It's perfect," Jace admires. He never cared for personalizing his bedroom, and he was glad to find it depersonalized for him. It's just like the room he grew up in, aside from the large glass wall that faces a plethora of trees, where the leaves have already begun to turn yellow. The leaves change too quickly in the North, and Jace misses the Southern sun from his home Nation of Morbid.

"If you say so," Luke mutters before leaving the room. He's endlessly grateful that Clary's father doesn't hover over him while he unpacks. Jace owns things that are native only to the Morbid, and he doesn't want them to know where he is from yet. Not until he can tell Clary.

It's no secret that the Domin and the Morbid hate each other. The Domin are peaceful, but they're agnostic and polyandrous. The Morbid are close-minded bigots who believe they can enforce laws that don't affect the decisions they already make for themselves. That's why Jace decided to move to the Domin Nation and become someone's husband. If it doesn't work out, he can always return to his homeland.

Jace starts unpacking his first bag, neatly folding items of clothing and placing them in their respective drawers. He comes across one of the most obviously Morbid item he owns: condoms. Jace isn't sure if Clary will even be willing to use one, but he certainly isn't ready for a child. Even if she agrees not to have a baby with _him, _it doesn't mean she won't get pregnant from Jordan or Sebastian. All he can do is hope it doesn't happen any time soon.

Jace shakes his head and places the unopened box inside of his dresser. He'll deal with the condom situation when the time comes.

-Clary Fairchild-

The four of us sit in the living room silently. I don't know how this whole thing works. The Domin don't talk about wedding nights or what you're supposed to do beforehand. My mother suggested that I give each of my husbands at least one night every week. She never told me how to choose who to be with first.

Sebastian's hand creeps up my thigh. I discreetly cross my legs, but he doesn't take the hint. "Who gets you first?" he asks.

"Certainly not you." Jace smirks. "She hates you. Jordan should get the first night."

"It's Clary's choice," Jordan interrupts.

Sebastian emits a guttural noise. "I've been waiting the longest. We've been engaged since we were ten years old."

Jace scoffs. "She chose us by choice, while her parents pushed you on her. You're the last person who should have her." I want to tell Jace that he's right, but I don't know how to talk to him yet. _This is always an area of angst in a new relationship. Example: when to ask a man if he does or__ would__ shave his balls._

Jordan sits silently, but his eyes are gentle when they catch mine. "Jordan is my First Husband," I say.

His jaw drops, and he sputters, "Clary..."

It's recently become uncommon for women to choose a First Husband. There was enough jealousy between husbands without confirmation that their wife liked one of them better than the others. I didn't plan to name a First Husband, but there's no going back now. It's true. I married Jordan first, and thought of him as such from the moment our lips touched. "You are first, Jordan. It's you. It's always been you."

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><p>My thumb runs gingerly over the infinity sign that's inked into the skin just above Jordan's hipbone. "I keep forgetting that we got these."<p>

Jordan reaches for me, moving aside the strap of my tank-top to inspect the black tattoo that matches his. "My mom saw mine and went crazy."

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Because, she's crazy."

I lie back on his grey blanket, letting my feet hang off the edge. "Luke saw mine, but he didn't care. My mom and Valentine would shit bricks though."

Jordan twists his lip ring back and forth with his tongue, and I bite down on my own lip when they actually twitch with the desire to kiss him. My cheeks burn at the thought. If I kiss him, it will lead it other things. I know that's the _entire point _of a wedding night, but I'm nervous as fucking fuck.

I stand from the bed, taking the pajamas I brought into Jordan's room with me. I'm halfway to the door when Jordan stops me. "Where are you going?"

"To change," I tell him.

He bites his lip in the most enticing way. _Damn hormones. Damn Jordan and his lip ring. _"Change here."

I am baffled and my arms instinctively cross to cover my clothes body. "Why?"

Jordan smirks. "I'm going to see you naked anyways."

My heart leaps, but I do as he says without complaint. With my eyes fixed on the thick, black rug beneath my feet, I begin lifting the cotton shirt over my head. My shaking hands move down to the zipper of my jeans and shimmy them to the floor. Jordan makes a sound of approval and his eyes burn across my body, leaving a deep blush in their wake. Up the length of my legs, along the line of my panties and over the curve of my breasts. Uncomfortable with his gaze, I turn away to unhook my bra.

"Hey, face me," Jordan protests. The huskiness of his voice sends a chill through me.

Hesitantly, I turn back to find his bare shoulders more tense than they were before. My eyes return to the floor as I remove my bra. I guess Jordan loses his patience, because he moves to my side, his lips pressed against mine and his hands making their way across my bare back.

I taste him and realize that I have been starving all this time.

I know I'm supposed to be able to feel happy all by myself, but Jordan just makes me happier. He makes me so happy that I don't protest when he tugs my panties down my legs and drops to his knees in front of me. He leans forward, burying his face between my thighs, and does things that reduce me to shaking limbs and raspy words. I am all his. He has my body, my soul, my everything. He is branded into me like stigmata.

I pull him up from his knees, colliding with the brick wall of his chest. His breath on my neck sends electricity down my spine. "God, I've wanted this for so long," he whispers into wires of red hair.

My thumb runs over the infinity tattoo above his hipbone, across the ridged muscles of his abdomen and down to the button of his jeans. "I hadn't thought about it," I lie.

Jordan chuckles. "You think about it all the time."

I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from smiling. "Once or twice."

Jordan leans down, pressing his lips firmly against my neck while his fingers slip into my hair. "Every night," he accuses.

"Usually at night," I admit.

He chuckles again, and his breath hitches when I flick open the button of his jeans. "What went on in these thoughts that you had mostly at night?" He recovers.

In this moment, there is a huge amount of freedom slithering, bubbling beneath my skin. It's a freedom that I never knew I wanted, but it's here, and it's beautiful. I want nothing more than to spill it all over Jordan so we can be free together. I lower his zipper and hook my thumbs into his belt loops, tugging gently. "Take these off, and I'll tell you if we thought the same thing."

Jordan's smile is my favorite thing. I'd do anything to keep him smiling like this.

His jeans hit the floor faster than I thought possible. My hands run along the elastic band of his shorts as I try to seem more confident than I am. I can feel the anticipation radiating off his hands and onto the bare skin of my lower back; he can see it on my face. My hands tug lightly at the waistband of his shorts, removing them from his hips. I am intoxicated by all of him. His hands run gingerly up my sides. "Should we get on the bed?" I ask tremulously.

Jordan smiles warmly at me with heavily lidded eyes. "Are you ready? We don't have to do it tonight." I lightly push him toward the bed, but he doesn't move. We _do _have to do it tonight. I'm not sure that Sebastian will wait, and I have to share his bed soon. "It's your first time, right?"

My eyebrows pull together, and my stomach turns nervously. "Of course. Why would you even ask that?"

His eyes glaze over, and my favorite smile is gone. I want it back. "It's not mine," Jordan says thickly.

"I… I know," I choke out, my eyes downcast.

I hear a sharp intake of breath. "You know?"

"Maia bragged."

He steps away from me, passing a hand through his hair and mutters, "Fuck." He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry. Maia was a mistake. I should have waited for you."

"It's okay," I say immediately. "It's not like you're the only one I'll be with."

"I'll be the first, though."

"Jor—"

"I should have waited for you," he cuts me off, and I can feel his regret resonating in the air between us.

My bare feet slap against the floor, and Jordan lets me push him back onto the bed, straddling his hips. I'd forgotten that we are naked. "One of us should know what we're doing."

He smirks up at me. "Don't worry about that. I'll teach you." He flips us over, his lips are on mine, and he's touching me everywhere. There's nothing to focus on besides the uncharted territory and the line that had been drawn in the sand being crossed.

I rake my nails down his back, pulling his mouth down harder against mine. My hips roll involuntarily, and I feel him warm and hard against me. "Jordan," he kisses from my neck to my shoulders to my chest, leaving a trail of pink marks all the way down the plain of my body. He palms my breasts firmly, almost painfully. My hips arch again, causing him to groan. "Hold still." He moves lower, positioning his face between my thighs again. When he leans in to me, I moan and arch again. "Sunny," Jordan whispers softly. "If you don't hold still, I won't be able to do this properly."

I shake my head. "Then don't. I want you." I was going to say more, but I'm cut off by a small whimper when Jordan crawls back up, aligning his hips with mine. He groans as he pushes into me, twitching at the feeling. I grit my teeth against the pain and the tight fit.

"Does it hurt?" Concern saturates his tone.

"No," I lie, but my voice cracks.

Jordan sighs. "Yes, it does."

I swallow hard and shake my head. "Just go slow."

Jordan nods and pulls back slowly before moving his hips forward again. I try to focus on breathing, waiting for the pain to pass. My fingertips wander, tracing the planes of his chest. His breath is ragged, and he's very obviously struggling to hold back until I'm ready.

I take in a long, shaky breath and tell him to go faster, while rocking my hips against him. The pain has subsided, and, while it doesn't hurt, it doesn't really feel good either. It's just kind of happening.

Jordan's tongue sneaks out to adjust his lip ring. He's been doing that since he got it pierced, and it makes me crazy. I think he knows that. "Does it still hurt?"

"No," I answer honestly this time.

He nods hesitantly. "Tell me if I hurt you."

I pull his lips down on mine as he picks up the pace. I do my best to participate, but I have no idea if I'm doing it right. Jordan grunts huskily in my ear, low and sexy. His hands brush gently against all of my skin, bit by bit. "You're soft," he whispers against my neck. Jordan's snaps his hips with more force, sending an onslaught of pleasure through me. I whimper, surprised. _Holy fucking shit. I get it now._ "Fuck," he mutters. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. I just wasn't expecting_… that_."

He smirks. "Did you like it?"

I nod, so Jordan does it again. And again. And again. Over and over, until I feel like I'm falling apart beneath him. "Jordan," I gasp. "Something… something's happening." I begin to panic. _Is this normal?_

Jordan chuckles, moving faster. _Why the fuck is he laughing? _"It's okay, Clary. You're just coming."

I whimper as he continues, never wavering from the pace he's set. _What does that even mean? Coming from where? _"What?" I try to say, but I'm overcome by something so powerful it makes me lose my mind for a moment. I flail around, trying to tell Jordan that something is wrong, but he _won't stop. _

When I finally come down my breathing is heavy and Jordan is stroking my hair back. "You okay?"

"What the fuck just happened?"

Jordan smirks. "You had an orgasm."

"A what? Am I dying?"

His slow movements halt and he laughs uproariously. "No, you're not dying."

I sigh in relief. At least I'm not dying. "I don't understand."

"Your mom never had this talk with you?"

"No," I answer.

"It's normal," he assures me. "I wanted it to happen."

My eyebrows squeeze together in the middle, and I catch one side of my lip between my teeth. "Does it happen to you, too?"

He nods. "Yeah, that's kind of the end result."

"I want to do it," I announce.

Jordan chokes. "What?"

"I want to make you feel that way. Will you teach me?"

"Yeah, I'll teach you." He flips us over so I'm straddling his hips, my hands sinking into the mattress beside his head. Jordan grips my hips and guides me up and down. "Move like this."

I follow his instructions, lifting myself up and falling back down. My teeth sink into his shoulder, as I try to get used to this new sensation. The harder I bite down on his shoulder, the harder he crashes between my legs. He's got my insides spilling out, and he is mine. I am his.

* * *

><p><strong>I SHIP EVERYTHING.<strong>

**Also, I thought I'd mention this: I have a pinterest board for my stories, where I post pictures of how I think the characters look (so, hot guys without shirts) and other stuff that's relevant (like their rooms!) If you want to look at hot shirtless guys, and stuff, just search IWriteNaked or the link is on my profile. (Some things might be... NSFW)  
><strong>

**One more thing: Do me a HUGE favor, okay? Go read these stories:**

**Coming Home by rippingbutterflywings. It's hurting me, and I need you to suffer with me.**

**Breakups and Shakeups by DeathCabForMari. It's her first story, and it's beautiful, and she's beautiful.**

**Oblivion by Katwood5 (she's going to stab me for doing this, so don't let me die in vain) READ IT AND WRITHE IN PAIN WITH ME.**

**The (Somewhat) Chance Encounter by Katethewriter. It deserves so much more recognition than it's getting, and Katethewriter is awesome because cussing absolutely does make you cool.**

**Seriously. I wouldn't recommend them if they weren't 100% fantastic.**

**Oh, and I have 2 new one shots up if you're interested. (Subject to Change and Ashes of Yesterday)**

**Alright. Love and shrugs. Team H&H for life. Syd for President.**

**-IWriteNakedButMyNameIsAsh  
><strong>


	3. Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

**Bruhh: "****I WANNA BE POISON IN A PRETTY BOTTLE GODDAMMIT" Me too… (sigh)**

**Jan:"Ehhhh why do you keep on making short stories? And avoiding shedding skin and reckless abandon? Please continue these son I check almost every hour -.-" I make the rules, and rule #1 is that I can write whatever I want.**

**Writing from my phone, which is why updates are taking SO LONG. Wish me luck! (By the time you see this, the chapter will be up. Your luck is USELESS!)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Mortal Instruments.**

* * *

><p>-Clary Fairchild-<p>

The morning sun hits my eyelids as I open them slightly, blinking a few times. I stretch, turning over and smiling at the beautiful boy lying next to me. Jordan's lips are slightly parted, his breathing shallow as he sleeps soundlessly.

Ugh. I'm sore all over. I'm going to go sit in the kitchen and cry until food happens. Goodbye, Earth! I have ascended into a higher plane of pain.

With great effort, I drag myself out of bed and into the kitchen, where I find Jace and Sebastian sitting on stools around the breakfast nook. Sebastian notices my limp right away and he smirks. "Rough night?"

Jace scoffs. "Leave her alone."

"It was just a question, Herondale. You don't need to be so emotional about this."

I clear my throat. "Fairchild."

Sebastian turns to me as I sit on the stool between them. "What?"

"You called him Herondale," I clarify. "His last name is Fairchild now."

I hear Jace chuckle and Sebastian rolls his eyes. "Where are you sleeping tonight?"

"I hadn't thought about it," I admit.

Sebastian sighs and Jace smirks to himself. "She hates you so much, Sebby. It's hilarious. What did you do?"

"All I did was beat up her brother. Once. And the fucker deserved it." I hate being talked about like I'm not here.

"He didn't deserve it," I argue. "You were mad that he kissed Aline."

"Who's Aline?" Jace asks.

"My cousin," Sebastian mutters. "More like my sister."

"Seb's parents adopted her when they were little. He's really protective," I explain. "It's his only good quality."

Sebastian chuckles. "I have other good qualities. I'll show you, if you share my bed tonight."

I deadpan. "I'm gonna sleep in Jace's room."

There's laughter coming from just outside the kitchen. Aside from Jordan's, this is my favorite laugh. I twist around on my stool, jumping onto the tile floor. "Jon!"

He steps over the threshold, white hair sticking out in every direction. "Hey, Rissa," he greets me, using the nickname he knows I hate. I'll brutally murder him, eventually. "Mom was going to send Luke to check if you were broken after sexy time, but I volunteered."

I deadpan. "How kind."

"I'm just a really great guy," Jonathan boasts. "So, are you broken?"

I straighten my spine and confidently tell him, "Domin do not break."

My brother grins. "That's my girl." He gestures for me to follow him out if the kitchen, while shooting a glare at Sebastian. He's silent until Jace and Sebastian are out of earshot. "Seriously, Rissa. They didn't hurt you, did they?"

I try my hardest to raise one eyebrow, but it doesn't work so I settle for lifting them both. "I didn't sleep with all of them, Jon."

"Just Jordan?"

"For now."

"Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head. "He wouldn't hurt me, Jonathan."

"You're limping," my brother observes.

"Why are we talking about this?"

He shrugs. "'Mom was worried that he'd be too rough with you. I'm supposed to get details."

"For the love of Hades, Jon. I'm not giving you details!"

A smirk plays on his lips. "If you don't, Mom will come over and ask you."

"That sounds mildly horrifying."

"I knew you'd feel that way," he says. "Give me details."

"I didn't know what an orgasm was!" I exclaim. "I was terrified. I asked Jordan if I was dying."

My brother folds in on himself with laughter. "Mom didn't tell you? I should have given you the talk."

I scoff.

"Other than your near death experience, how was it?"

"It was glorious," I admit. "He's good at that."

"So good that you almost died," Jon teases and I slap his arm. He presses a lingering kiss on the corner of my mouth. When he pulls away, his fingers tug lightly at the collar of my t-shirt. "This is a good look for you."

And that's when I realize that I've only been wearing panties and Jordan's t-shirt this whole time. I'm ready to die now. "Jon, why you gotta make it gay?"

* * *

><p>When I make my way into the kitchen, fully dressed this time, Jordan has joined the others around the breakfast nook.<p>

"Good morning," I greet him, as I take the seat between him and Jace.

Jordan grins. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

I blush. "Good. You?"

"Fantastic."

"The innuendos are killing me. Stop," Jace complains.

Sebastian chuckles. "Calm the bone, you two."

I roll my eyes at them, and Jordan laces his fingers through mine. "What are we going to do today?" I ask.

"The train is going to Nibor and back today," Jordan announces. "We should go."

I bite my lip. The Nibor are really... sexual. In public. Shamelessly. All the time.

"I've never been to Nibor," Jace says. "That would be cool."

"I'm in," Sebastian announces. _Of course you are, pervert..._

"Alright," I agree, because I'm outnumbered anyways. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>I've never left Domin without Jonathan. It's hard to get through the border at all, but we manage to struggle our way through security in time to catch the train and settle into the soft seats while Sebastian shuts the door behind us. He sits across from me, beside Jace.<p>

"What do people do in the Nibor Nation?" Jace asks.

"Sex," Jordan answers with a straight face. "We should go to the museum, though!"

"I love the museum." Sebastian winks at me. _Of course you love the museum. Freak._

_"_They have a museum? Like an art museum or a history museum?" Jace is adorably clueless.

"You'll see," Jordan says with a casual smirk in my direction. What the frick frack. These guys are going to be the death of me.

* * *

><p>It's one of the biggest buildings in the Northeast Nation of Nibor. We pay the woman at the door and walk in an awkward silence into the lobby.<p>

"Guys, I have to piss like a Russian race horse," Jordan announces.

"I have to pee like a sea biscuit," I say.

"Same," Jace agrees.

Sebastian rolls his eyes and starts walking toward the big blue sign that says _Restrooms. _The guys turn left and I turn right, pushing the door open.

After I pee, I'm washing my hands when a familiar face appears from the stall behind me. She's got eyes like the night sky and hair as black as Sebastian's soul.

"Isabelle!" I exclaim. "I didn't know you were here!"

"Hey!" she greets me. "Simon and I came in yesterday. My parents don't know..." She trails off with a devious smile.

I narrow my eyes at her. "Oh? What happened?"

She shrugs casually, and pumps an unnecessary amount of soap into her hand. "We just wanted to be alone before I choose tomorrow."

"Have you decided who else you're choosing? Your parents want you to pick three, right?"

Izzy shrugs. "I'm obviously choosing Simon, but I was thinking..." She trails off and averts her eyes as we leave the restroom. The guys are all leaned against the wall, but we don't go to them.

"What?"

"I'm going to choose Alec and Magnus," she announces.

"Izzy!" I protest. "Alec is your brother. You heard what they taught us in school. Your kids could have terrible genetic mutations."

Isabelle frowns. "I'm not going to sleep with him. I only want to be with Simon."

Suddenly, I understand. She's doing the same thing that _I _would have done if my parents didn't make me marry Sebastian. She's choosing both of them so they can be together. "That's so sweet, Izzy. Does Alec know?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not telling either of them. Will you be there when I choose?"

I grin at her. Isabelle has been my friend since year one, when we built a snow fort together after school. "I wouldn't miss it."

Izzy glances over my shoulder. "Guy number three is a hottie. What's the story there?"

I shrug. "Jordan pointed him out. I needed a third. He seems nice, and he doesn't like Sebastian."

She arches one eyebrow and I hate her a little bit. "Have you two... you know?"

"No," I answer. "I spent the night with Jordan."

"Can I meet him?" She nods toward Jace.

"Sure."

The guys all push off the wall as we approach. "Hey, Iz." Jordan waves at her.

"Jordan," she says stiffly.

"Jace," I say. "This is my friend Isabelle."

They shake hands and he smiles politely at her. "Nice to meet you."

"I haven't seen you around. Are you from the Domin Nation?"

Jace sets his jaw and his shoulders go tense. "No," is all he says.

"Are you from Nibor? Is that why you guys are here?"

"We're here to go to this museum," Jace corrects her. "I'm not from here."

"Stop pestering the poor boy," Jordan interrupts. Jace mouths _thank you_.

_What's that about?_

* * *

><p>Izzy says she needs to get back to Simon, so we say our goodbyes and the rest of us begin walking around the museum.<p>

The first statue is of a woman on all fours with a man on his knees, with his hands on her hips. From the looks of it, he's buried to the hilt and she is thoroughly enjoying herself.

"I like this one," Sebastian tells me with a wink.

"What kind of museum is this?" Jace lifts one eyebrow and moves on to the next statue. It's of a girl kneeling in front of a man with his... business in her mouth. This is just how the Nibor are. They aren't shy about anything pertaining to sex and they don't judge what anyone does, as long as no one is being harmed... unless they're into that. The Nibor do not care what two or more consenting adults do.

"It's Nibor," Sebastian points out.

"What did you expect?" Jordan asks.

"I've never been here," Jace defends. "How was I supposed to know?"

"Seriously, where are you from?" I ask.

Jordan wraps his arms around me from behind, and any questions about Jace are long gone. I lean into his warmth as we awkwardly admire a marble sculpture of a man and woman in the missionary position. His teeth are clamped down on her neck, and her nails dig into his back.

* * *

><p>We spend the day doing the normal tourist things before meeting Izzy and Simon for lunch and riding home on the train together.<p>

It's dark by the time we crash into the living room. Sebastian glares at Jace before he goes to his room. Jordan gives me a kiss and nods at Jace. I think there's a little bit of sadness in his eyes, and I wish there was a way to make it leave.

"Shall we?" Jace gestures toward his bedroom door.

I hesitate for a moment. "Yes."

"Good."

Jace's room is white. The only other color comes from the recently yellowed leaves through the sliding glass door that leads onto the balcony. "I like your room."

"Thanks," Jace says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not big on decorations."

I nod. "Should we get on the bed?"

He chuckles. "If you want to."

I flop down onto his bed and wince at the pain between my legs. "That was a poor decision." I roll onto my side, bringing my knees up to my chest.

"What?" Jace asks.

I make a noise that I hope says _sex hurts. _

"Sore?" I nod in response. "We don't have to do anything."

My eyebrows pull together. "You don't want to?"

"I want to. But I don't want you to be in pain. We can wait."

I nod. "That's really sweet."

One of his eyebrows goes up and it kind of pisses me off, but mostly I just think he's sexy. "What should we do?"

I bite my lip. All I really want to do is sit in a super hot tub of water. "Do you want to take a bath?" _Oh my God. I can't believe I asked him that._

"Together?" Jace sputters.

"We're going to see each other naked anyways," I quote Jordan.

Jace pales. "I suppose," he says stiffly.

"If you don't want to..." I trail off, averting my eyes.

"I want to," Jace says immediately. I grin at him and he lifts me from the bed, bridal style. He carries me through the door to his bathroom and sets me down on the countertop. He turns on the faucet, pouring bubble soap under the running water. I dim the lights and watch the way his shoulders shake when he laughs.

Jace turns around and removes his shirt. His back is tanned and muscular, but there's a sunken white scar across his right shoulder blade. I want to trace it, but we aren't familiar enough for the touch to feel welcomed. I remind myself that were about to be naked in front of each other, but it doesn't make this feel any more natural.

He turns around, and my eyes do the only logical thing: trace the outline of each of his abs and that little line where his pectoral muscles come together. My hands curl into fists, as I refuse to allow myself to reach out.

I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself for what I'm about to do. Somehow, it's infinitely less terrifying after last night. I cross my arms over my stomach, grabbing the hem of my shirt and turning it inside out as I pull it over my head. Jace doesn't look at me like Jordan did. He looks at me like I'm something he's trying to understand— a broken object he can fix with his hands.

I hop down from the counter. "You look good," I mutter awkwardly.

His golden eyes flick down over my black and blue bra. "So do you." His belt buckle hits the floor hard. I try not to make eye contact as he unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall down his legs and kicks them off.

I do the same, and we're left in nothing but our underwear. This is where it gets really awkward.

Jace makes a noise of approval. "Damn."

I cross my arms over my stomach. "Why you gotta make it gay?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

He chuckles. "I did. But in what way is this gay?"

I shrug. "I heard someone say it in Ellimac, once."

Jace shakes his head with a small smile. His thumbs hook into the waistband of his boxers and he lifts one eyebrow at me. I try to unhook my bra with some semblance of confidence. We remove our last article of clothing together. I don't look at him.

I yelp when he lifts me and takes me to the tub. He sets me in the water before climbing in on the opposite side of the tub.

The bubbles cover my chest, and, for that, I am eternally grateful.

"This is nice," Jace says. I avoid looking at his chest and shoulders, because reasons.

"Yeah," I agree. "But it's mostly just awkward."

He shakes his head and smiles at me. "It was your idea."

I can't argue with that. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

He shifts awkwardly, causing the water to sway. "Was it not a good idea?"

I pretend to think about it for a second. "Undecided."

"Were you born in Domin?" Jace asks abruptly.

I nod. "Where are you from?" I ask, because he's kind of escaped the question twice today.

He sighs. "There's something I have to tell you."

"Are you from Ellimac?" I ask. "You seem like you love turtles."

"No," Jace says. "I'm not from Ellimac, but I do love turtles."

"Mals? You're quiet, like they are."

"No."

"Yendys? Are you a pudding lover?"

"I'm not from Yendys," Jace says the words like a sigh. "But pudding is my lifeblood."

"Eitak?"

"No."

"Okay, you've got to be from Iram, then! Have you ever caused a forest fire?" I chuckle.

"Clary..." _Uh oh. _"I'm not from Iram."

"But that leaves... oh, fuck!" I exclaim. "You're Morbid?!"

Jace nods. "Listen–"

"Why are you here?" I cut him off.

"Honestly?"

"Honesty is key in every relationship, sweetheart," I spit venomously.

"I hated it," he says. "My family is dead, I don't believe in a higher power, and I was no longer welcome in the Morbid Nation when they found out. I have no other living relatives. Coming here to get married seemed like the best option."

I close my eyes tightly. "Do the others know?"

"Jordan guessed. Sebastian doesn't know shit."

Despite my anger and worry over this new information, I laugh. "Sebastian really doesn't know shit."

And just like that, Jace smiles, and it's like he's not Morbid at all. "Are you mad?"

I shake my head. "It's not like we were ever alone long enough for you to tell me. And you didn't wait any longer than you had to, so I guess it's okay if you're telling the truth."

He grins. "I'm glad."

"Turn around," I say abruptly.

Jace gives me a look, but doesn't object. Probably because he knows he's on thin iceturns so his back is to me and I reach out to run my index finger over the sunken scar on his shoulder blade. He stiffens, but doesn't pull away. "What happened?"

"I..." Jace trails off and turns back around, effectively hiding the scar. "Nothing." I know he's lying, but I don't push the subject.

I rack my brain for a subject change, but I come back empty handed. Jace is really attractive and it's kind of intimidating. Especially when we're naked. And that's why I panic. Before the action can register in my mind, I'm splashing water at him.

Oh. My. God.

Jace laughs, to my surprise, and splashes me back. That's how we end up with water covering the floor and laughter echoing off the walls. Jace stops splashing first, his tawny eyes lit up.

"Clary..."

"Jace."

"Would it be bad timing if I kissed you right now?"

The question catches me off guard. "I'd like that," I admit.

At this point, the bubbles are mostly gone and the remainder does nothing to cover my nudity. When Jace leans in, however, he doesn't try to touch me anywhere other than where his lips press against mine and his hand rests on my cheek.

My heart pounds against my chest. I'm hoping to God that he can't hear it. Jace makes me feel human.

I don't know what the fuck to do with my hands. Do I touch him? Normally, I hate losing control. I hate not knowing what to do, but something about Jace makes me forget to feel uncomfortable. He makes me forget that I'm all weak knees, thud, thud, thudding heart, over-thinking, socially inept Clary Fairchild.

* * *

><p><strong>A huge thanks to GreyGirl2348 for calling me the morning after I got dumped because you knew it was better than texting. That was really sweet, and I appreciate it more than I can say. I love you more than Oreos with peanut butter on top.<strong>

**To DeathCabForMari for being my Parabatai, my Beta Daughter, my Izzy, my Magnus, my Jace and for loving Morty as much as I do. For the invite and for giving Zach-Leigh a ship name. I love you as much as I love Morty.**

**SweetSassyPants for making me laugh and putting up with me even when I'm being a pill. And for letting me call to gush about cute boys, because I really need to talk about cute boys... Oh, and for helping me with my awkward flirting because that was hilarious and awesome. I love you almost as much as I love the eyebrow thing.**

**Katwood5 for being a great friend through all of this, and always offering sound advice. Love and shrugs.**

**MamaMiller for knowing when to lend an ear and when to distract me.**

**And finally, Rippingbutterflywings for being my beta and especially for being my friend. For listening to me when I was heartbroken and for making sure I do not do things blindly. And for shipping me with people, doing the interview and writing the story about it. My love for you can be matched only by my love for guacamole.**

**I truly could not have been blessed with a better group of people. I love and appreciate all of you. **

**OKAY. Leave a review, maybe. I don't know. Live your life.**

**-IWriteNaked**


	4. Being Rude Again (Authors Note)

Hey guys! Sorry, this is just an authors note. I'll update as soon as I'm able and I'm working on Reckless Abandon along with a few one shots.

To the point: I've gotten 3 reviews on the previous chapter of Shedding Skin saying that I'm rude. I'm not here to dispute that because I know I can be rude sometimes. I'm only here to address the person who left these reviews, assuming they're all from the same person. There's no telling when you're a guest. I don't want to make this public but I can't reply to you directly.

First: I don't think I was rude, at all. The only thing I said was that I made the rules, which I do. Meaning that it's up to me what/when I write. I'm in charge here, and I obviously like being in control of my own actions. Is that too much for me to expect? It shouldn't be.

Second: I am only rude when I feel attacked/disrespected. I don't owe any of you anything. Try to remember that it takes authors years to write a book and I'm trying to do this at a much quicker pace, with no outcome other than sharing it with you. Because I love writing. That's why I'm here. Stop treating me like I'm some kind of machine who has to obey your every command, when in reality, I'm a girl who wants nothing more than to be like her older brother and does stupid things with her best friends on a regular basis. I get reckless more often than not. I smoke too much and I've got a little bit of a drinking problem. I come from an abusive home, and the way I word things just happens because it's the way I was raised. I don't know what you want from me. I have more than earned the right to stand up for myself, in whatever way I see fit. That's who I am. Are these more personality flaws that you would like to criticize, or are you done?

Third: People seem to forget that I am a person, too. I will never try to use my personal life as an excuse, but you've got to understand that I write whatever I'm feeling. The reason I don't update my stories as often as you'd like is because I can't write this comedy (Reckless Abandon) or this crazy love story (Shedding Skin) when I've been spending my days staring too long at a bottle of vodka. All I can seem to write is what's happening right now (See "Z is For Zymotic") and I've been nothing other than upset lately. This isn't an excuse or even an explanation for the "rudeness" you feel you've endured. It's only a reason for what I've been writing lately. I'm going to assume you're the same person who left the "why are you writing one shots and not your stories" review because you wouldn't be so offended if the reply was not directed at you.

Fourth: You should either a) Find some facts to support your opinion (Have you ever held a conversation with me? Anyone that knows me will tell you I am only rude when you deserve it. In turn, they know I'm also friendly when you deserve it.) or b) stop sharing your ill-informed opinion.

Fifth: You've gone out of your way to review the same chapter 3 times in order to tell someone how flawed their personality is, when they're very clearly hurting and God damn. I thought I'd hit rock bottom, but the floor gave out. You couldn't stop at just 1, either. That's the annoying part. You've got to kick people when they're down. Who's rude?

Sixth: To quote my Parabatai: I'm here to write, not to be your bestie.

I apologize if this seems rude. I'm really not trying to be. This is just how I am and I have no plans to change. Get to know me and you'll find that you were wrong about me.

If you really feel the need to discuss this further, my email is ashbuckley at ymail . com I'll even try to be nice to you, if you're willing to be nice in return. Or, you said you followed me on Instagram in one of your reviews. Send me a direct message and I'd be willing to discuss this with you.

Take care,

AshLeigh


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